The Daughter of an Empress eBook

Love, then, for the improvisatrice Corilla, was nothing
more than a strong wine with which she refreshed and
strengthened her fatigued poetic powers for renewed
exertions; it was in a manner the tow which she threw
upon the expiring fire of her fantasy, to make it flash
up in clear and bright flames.

It was only in this way that she loved Carlo, and
wept for him, except that in this case her love had
been of a longer duration, because it was he
who gave up and left her! That was what
made her hatred so glowing, that was what made her
seek the life of the woman for whom Carlo had deserted
her.

“This is a new situation,” said she, “which
I am called to live through and to feel. But
a poetess must have experienced all feelings, or she
could not describe them. For my part, I do not
believe in the revelations of genius—­I
believe only in experiences. One can describe
only what one has felt and experienced. Whoever
may attempt to describe the flavor of an orange, must
first have tasted it!”

That this attempt to murder Natalie had failed, was
to her a matter of little moment. She had experienced
the emotion of it, and just the same would it have
been a matter of indifference to her had the dagger
pierced Natalie’s breast—­she was sufficiently
a child of the South to consider a murder as only
a venial sin, for which the priest could grant absolution.

There was only one thing which exclusively occupied
Corilla, following and tormenting her day and night,
and that was her poetic fame. She desired that
her name should stand high in the world, glorified
by all Europe, and for this purpose she desired above
all things to be crowned as a poetess in the capitol
of the holy city; for this fame she would willingly
have given many years of her life.

That was the aim of all her efforts, and how much
would she not have borne, ventured, and suffered for
its attainment! How many intrigues were planned,
how much cunning and dissimulation, flattery, and
hypocrisy, had been employed for that purpose, and
all, all as yet in vain!

Therefore it was that Corilla now wept, and with occasional
outbreaks of passionate exclamations violently paced
her room. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes flashed—­she
was very beautiful in this state of excitement.
That she must have acknowledged to herself as her glance
accidentally encountered her own face in the glass.

With a smile of satisfaction she remained standing
before the mirror, and almost angrily she said:

“Ah, why am I now alone, why does no one see
me in my beautiful glow? My face might now produce
some effect, and gain me friends! Why, then, am
I now alone?”

But it seems that Corilla had only to express a wish
in order to see it suddenly fulfilled; for the door
was at that moment opened, and a servant announced
Count Alexis Orloff.

Corilla smiled with delight, and let that smile remain
upon her lips, as she very well knew it was becoming
to her, and that she had conquered many hearts with
it; but secretly her heart throbbed with fear, and
timidly she asked herself, “What can that Russian
count want of me?”